


Something Old, Something New

by i_buchanan



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Gender Issues, M/M, Nonbinary Bucky Barnes, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Other, Period Typical Attitudes, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Self-Discovery, Soft Stucky, Trans Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 18:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20277943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_buchanan/pseuds/i_buchanan
Summary: Bucky could never put himself into words the same way Steve learned how to. He wasn't a woman. But he wasn't entirely sure he was a man, either, and he didn't know how to get that across both to himself and to others.Or, two times Steve brought lipstick home for Bucky, and the first time he tried both of them





	Something Old, Something New

_ 1937 _

-

“Buck, did you have company over?”

Bucky didn't think anymore than to momentarily pause, brow furrowing as he continued to stir the watered-down soup that was going to have to stretch until he got paid on Friday. “Stevie, I just got home half an hour ago. When would I have had time for that?”

Steve’s footsteps were only audible because of the creaking wood planks. His steps were a little staggered, a little uneven in a way that made Bucky think that he was trying to practice widening his stance again. It was something he only remembered to do sometimes, though he was getting better at it even when he wasn’t consciously thinking about it.

“Then what the fuck is this?”

Bucky glanced behind him, freezing up when he saw the metal tube in Steve’s hand. A knot of anxiety got tied up high in his throat, and he was pretty sure his hands went numb. Hadn’t he put that in with his socks? That’s what he always did, and Steve never really had cause to go through that particular drawer. His hands and feet were a little bigger than the rest of him, proportionally, but Bucky was still half a foot taller than him, at least. Bucky’s socks wouldn’t fit him.

He had a hard time looking at any one place for too long, gaze flicking between the tube in Steve’s hand and the hard blue of his eyes.

“Buck. What the fuck is this.”

It was hard to swallow, to breathe, and there was a distinct sense that the world was just the slightest bit off. That he had a hard time staying balanced even though he stayed perfectly still. “Someone must have left it here,” he said with a shrug. There was something detached about the gesture, as if Bucky was watching himself go through the motions from about two steps back.

It wasn’t someone’s forgotten trinket, though. Well. Not really. 

It  _ had  _ belonged to someone else, but Bucky had relieved her of it months ago and had hidden it away ever since.

And he got it; he understood why Steve was pissed. Bucky had seen similar tirades thrown since they were children and Sarah would put him in a Sunday dress or plait his hair at night so it would wave nicely in the morning.

He didn't know how to admit to Steve that the lipstick was for  _ Bucky _ , though. Didn't know how to articulate why he felt like he needed it when he couldn’t even parse it out for himself.

He could tell that Steve didn't even remotely believe him, was the problem. And knew damn well that Steve as going to assume the worst, that he’d gotten it for Steve when that was the last thing on his mind.

After all, Steve’s mouth was already a lovely soft pink. A bright red when he’d been biting it too hard, too often. Swollen and plush when they’d been kissing for an hour straight. Bucky had no desire to change that.

With a sort of deliberation, Bucky turned his back to Steve, trying to keep his shoulders loose as he returned to their soup. “What, Steve?”

“You haven’t had anyone over in months, Buck. You were complaining about that a week ago, and we both know you would’ve been bragging if that had changed.”

Shit. Had he? Bucky’s jaw clicked shut, though he wasn’t even sure what he’d been preparing himself to say to begin with.

“You were hiding it, Buck. So why the fuck is it here?” Steve continued, voice dropping to an almost dangerous-sounding register that usually sent a thrill through his veins.

Now it just made him almost anxious.

“It’s for me,” he finally managed. His voice sounded small, pathetic, and Bucky couldn’t help but wince.

The silence that fell over them felt almost deafening. Heavy, oppressive, and Bucky wasn’t sure if the truth was better or worse than what Steve had initially assumed.

“It’s… Are you…?”

“I’m not a woman.”

There was a lot of truth to that, really. Bucky knew he wasn’t a woman; didn't want to grow out his hair or put on heels, or any of that. The idea of wearing a dress was unsettling for a long list of reasons, so it wasn’t that.

The problem was, it still felt like the slightest bit of a lie to say. Because it left out the part where he wasn’t entirely sure that he was a man, either.

It was easier, in his opinion, to just ignore the whole thing. He assumed that most people were at least a little uncomfortable with how they were, and then there were people like Steve who were just… They were just put in the wrong sort of body from the start.

Steve’s gaze was palpable, burning into the back of his neck. “Do you just… like to wear it then, or what is it?”

That was a pretty easy out, actually. If Bucky played it off as some kind of taboo kink. More taboo than whatever fumbling around the two of them were doing, for sure.

The knot was hard to swallow down, but Bucky had to at least try before he answered. “I just… It’s pretty. I like how it looks.” That was ambiguous enough, wasn’t it? Vague, but hopefully in the right sort of direction so that Steve would back off.

God knew he blushed like no one’s business when Bucky’s tone turned even slightly salacious, still so easily embarrassed.

For a while, neither of them seemed to know what to say. But then Steve’s hand found his elbow, something gentle in the motion that was a far cry from the near hostility he’d stalked into the room with.

It made Bucky startle all the same.

His eyes flicked to Steve’s, unsure what to do with the consideration in Steve’s eyes. What was he thinking about? Was he trying to figure out if there was more that Bucky wasn’t saying? Was he trying to decide if he was just outright lying?

The cap came off with a metallic sound, and Bucky couldn’t help but watch as Steve exposed the red pigment and held it up to Bucky’s cheek.

“It’s not a good shade for you,” he decided, capping the lipstick as if it was just a totally normal thing between them. As if Bucky hadn’t just outed himself as some sort of deviant. “You’ll want something darker.”

When Steve turned to return to their room, Bucky was pretty sure his knees felt weak. He held onto the rickety countertop as if that would provide any semblance of support as he tried to parse out what the hell just happened.

It was only by some minor miracle that he didn't burn the soup while he collected himself.

* * *

Not even a week later, Bucky found a different tube of lipstick in his sock drawer. Brand new, and he wasn’t sure if Steve had bought it or stole it.

He also didn't ask, figuring it was safer if he didn't know how he had acquired it.

The pigment was darker. Richer, and when he carefully drew it on with shaky hands, he begrudgingly had to admit that Steve had been right. It looked better on him than the tube he’d taken off of Dottie’s hands.

His reflection in the dirty, slightly cracked mirror felt different just from that alone. His mouth looked fuller, more dangerous even with a day’s worth of stubble across his jaw. It made his eyes look darker, almost a little wild and it just--

It felt powerful.

It scared him half to death, and Bucky hurriedly tried to wipe it off as if he could just unsee himself like that.

No matter how hard he rubbed at it, the waxy pigment seemed to have stained his mouth and left a faint pink tinge behind.

Steve was going to know the second he walked out what he had tried, and the thought filled him with dread even though Bucky knew that Steve had been the one to get it in the first place. He had to know that Bucky was going to wear it at some point.

Knowing that didn't loosen the tight coil of his stomach, almost icy with trepidation as he left their bedroom with his head lowered as if he could hide it that way.

Granted, he was also aware that it was a lost cause from the start. Steve may be color-blind, but he would almost definitely be able to tell anyways.

And yet, in spite of all his nerves, there was a weird sort of annoyance when all Steve did was take one look at him, offered him an uncharacteristically soft smile, and went back to his sketchbook.

All that build up had been for nothing, and Bucky had a hard time not being a little let down by it.

Neither of them said a word about it. Then again, Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what there was to say to begin with.

* * *

_ Present day _

-

Bucky wasn’t sure what to do when he walked into their shared bathroom to find a tube of what he somehow recognized as lipstick. Unassuming, off to the side as if it had always been there, when he knew for a fact it hadn’t been there when he woke up this morning.

There were still a lot of holes in his memory. And this was definitely tugging at one of them, but he couldn’t quite pull it together no matter how hard he wracked his brain.

Was he supposed to open it? He knew damn well it wasn’t for Steve. Bucky couldn’t think of a single time that he had worn makeup of his own volition, and he was pretty sure that hadn’t changed in the past eighty years.

“Steve?” he called, knowing damn well that Steve would hear him even over the water running. “What the fuck is this?”

It was a dumb question. He knew  _ what _ it was. He just didn't know why it was here.

The bathroom door clicked open, Bucky able to see Steve poke his head in through the mirrored reflection. “What the fuck is what?” he asked, seeming to be entirely unfazed by the fact that Bucky was only half dressed with the black vibranium arm on full display.

Then again, Bucky was pretty sure the lines of propriety had long since been blurred between them, if they had ever existed at all. Bucky was fairly confident that Steve had seen him nude at just about every point in his life, even if Bucky couldn’t really say the same for Steve.

Bucky gestured towards the tube, a sort of anxiety bubbling in him at the thought of touching it himself. It felt forbidden. Taboo. Something to be afraid of, even if it was just innocently sitting there.

However, Steve seemed completely unperturbed. Odd considering that Bucky remembered Steve blushing at the slightest provocation.

He  _ still _ did that, actually. Apparently this just didn't count as provocation.

“You used to wear things like that around the apartment sometimes,” Steve said with a small shrug.

Bucky caught the hint of sheepishness when Steve’s gaze dropped for a moment. Quick enough that he could pretend he hadn’t seen it.

Hearing Steve say that, though… Whatever tight, fluttering thing was in his stomach only increased, like a warning going off. Something insisting that this was dangerous even if it struck a chord somehow.

He had to swallow thickly, tearing his eyes away from Steve’s reflection to look at the little tube. It was so innocuous. A little silver rectangular thing just sitting there.

It felt a little ridiculous that it would cause such a strong reaction in Bucky, but he’d long since learned that fear was far from rational. Especially for someone who had gone through what he had, and a whole myriad of little things had the potential to set him off.

“Why?” he found himself asking, feeling almost a little detached.

There was the soft pad of Steve’s bare feet against the plush rug until Bucky could feel the heat radiating against his back. “You never said, really. You were adamant that you weren’t a woman, but that was about all you would say about the matter.”

That… Bucky thought he could remember that. The fear, knowing he wasn’t like Steve in that sense, but also feeling a little uncomfortable in his skin regardless.

That certainly hadn’t changed, but Bucky assumed it was because of the arm, because of his sense of self being stripped away for seventy years.

Apparently it went further back than that, but Bucky still didn't know what to do about it.

“So it’s not… This is normal, for me?” he asked, a little unsure of himself. If Steve knew about it and was comfortable enough to go out and buy this sort of thing for Bucky…

He had trouble imagining that transaction taking place, if he was being honest with himself. Did Steve go out to a store looking for lipstick for Bucky? What must the cashier have thought? He was almost positive Steve hadn’t stolen it, but it was something he half-considered anyways.

Bucky eyed it cautiously, unsure if he was drawn to the idea of wearing lipstick now or not. It wasn’t--

All right. He was pretty sure ‘it wasn’t normal’ wasn’t going to cut it after everything he’d lived through at this point. A lot of their lives weren’t normal, and what  _ was _ normal had changed a lot since they lived in a shoebox in Brooklyn.

“It’s not new, at least,” Steve answered. “And I never minded it either, if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

That wasn’t something that had particularly crossed his mind. If Steve would mind.

It had honestly reached the point where Bucky had accepted the fact that Steve was pretty much just happy to have Bucky around regardless of how he acted or what he did. And, if nothing else, that Steve would look the other way if Bucky did something he deemed ‘wrong’.

It was weird, honestly. Something about that made him feel a little wrongfooted, even if he was pretty sure it was supposed to be reassuring.

Bucky forced himself to breathe slowly, to let his shoulders relax, and nodded once. “All right. All right, Stevie. I’m good, thank you.”

Steve’s hesitation was palpable, visible in the reflection. A slight furrow in his brow as his eyes traced over Bucky’s features before he nodded as well and stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

While Steve’s retreat wasn’t quite hasty, he didn't linger any longer than he had to. The door shut quietly behind him, leaving Bucky staring at the place where his reflection had been until he could will himself to move.

That didn't mean he was ready to try the lipstick, or even open the tube to see what the color was.

* * *

It seemed like Steve was outright trying to meddle again.

He wasn’t subtle. Never had been, bless him, but the open laptop was a little more obvious than the small tube of lipstick that still hadn’t been moved from its place in the bathroom.

At least Bucky knew that if Steve left it open, that meant that he wanted Bucky to see something on it. Last time it had been apartments that Steve was looking at, and the time before that it had been clothing.

Now it was an article on different genders, beyond the male and female Bucky was aware of.

That familiar pit of dread opened up in his stomach, but he knew that wasn’t going to stop him from pulling the computer onto his lap and looking at it.

His eyes caught on the term ‘nonbinary’. Read the description, kept scrolling through the other terms, but he found himself typing that particular one into the search bar later on.

Granted. No matter how many times he read it, he was still left with the feeling that he didn't know what to do with.

Having a word for it though… It settled at least something in him.

When he left the laptop open for Steve, he left a tab open on that definition.

Neither of them had gotten better at communication, in all reality, but he liked to think that it worked for them anyways.

The next time he saw Steve, he offered a small smile. Something a little warmer than usual, and Bucky was pretty sure that he had been understood.

* * *

“Steve, this is a little ridiculous,” Bucky complained, even if it was half-hearted at best.

“Let me do it anyways.”

And damn if Bucky wasn’t weak for that flash of puppy-eyes Steve offered him. It was cheating, but Bucky found himself giving in anyways with a soft sigh.

Ostensibly, not much had changed between them. Steve would occasionally bring little feminine things into the apartment for Bucky, but never really pushing any further than that.

Bucky, on the other hand, was getting a little bolder about it. He hadn’t braved the original dark red lipstick that Steve had brought him, or tested out a different set of pronouns, but there were a few things…

Nail polish was easier, for some reason. He was pretty steady with it, and the light blue decorating his right hand made him smile for no apparent reason. It made him happy and settled that weird, unattached feeling he sometimes got when he looked in the mirror.

Learning to braid his hair was helping a bit too. And it made sense why Steve hadn’t been surprised when Bucky chose to keep it long, considering that Steve was aware that he had some more… feminine tendencies.

But this was still a bit much.

Steve had draped him across their bed maybe half-dressed, and was now holding that dark red lipstick in his hand. He’d asked Bucky to pull his hair back nicely, and Bucky was only tentatively sure that this was going to work out all right.

Bucky looked at him with trepidation, though well aware that Steve used to draw him before the war and he was pretty sure there were even some nude drawings there. This, though? This was a lot.

He swallowed thickly, eyeing the tube as if it were poisonous but nodded all the same. What was the harm, right? If he really hated it, he could just tell Steve to fuck off and go wash it away. Pretend that it never happened.

There was a sort of tenderness in Steve’s eyes as his mouth quirked into a half smile before pressing the tube of lipstick to Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky’s breath hitched, but he made sure to stay perfectly still as Steve dragged it over his mouth with careful precision.

It felt--It wasn’t strictly a sexual thing. But it would be a lie if Bucky claimed there wasn’t a sort of  _ release _ just from this. Something that made his chest tighten and his eyes prickle the faintest bit.

As soon as Steve was done, he hesitated a moment. The tip of lipstick lingering in the center of Bucky’s lips before pulling away with his gaze averted. The only thing keeping Bucky from worrying that there was something wrong was the flush that started creeping across Steve’s cheeks.

“It suits you,” he said softly. “It really…” Steve swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze. “Let me… Let me do this and then maybe go take a look?”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that, but--

But.

Maybe it was a good thing.

Either way, Bucky stayed as Steve wanted, spread out on the bed with his shirt almost entirely unbuttoned, and the fly of his pants down and folded open. It would have felt a lot more scandalous if Steve also hadn’t made sure his hair was loosely braided back along the side and wanted him looking out the window.

It felt soft rather than risque, somehow. Like he was being caught in some sort of introspective moment instead of disrobing for a lover.

Vaguely, he knew that Steve had drawn him multiple times over the years in various stages of undress. When Steve had needed a nude model, Bucky was always on hand to bare it all for him, after all. But he was almost certain that it was easier for him now than before, if only because he was much more practiced at staying still for long periods of time.

Time flowed oddly with no clock in Bucky’s line of sight. He couldn’t say for certain how long he was there, focusing only on looking as soft as he felt until he could hear the faint sound of Steve’s footsteps again.

There was the same sort of gentleness in Steve’s eyes, blooming something in Bucky’s chest just to see it.

“Thank you,” he said, making sure not to disrupt the quiet tone of the room with his voice.

Bucky swallowed thickly, taking Steve’s hand to help himself up before fastening his pants. “Thank  _ you _ ,” he repeated. It was a little harder to focus on Steve for some reason, but it didn't stop him from urging him down just enough to kiss his cheek.

The dark red stain left there just made his heart flutter, especially combined with the warmth of Steve’s smile.

“Yeah, Buck. Anytime.”

It was hard to convince himself to move, but he  _ did _ want to see. And he knew damn well that Steve’s art had a way of smoothing over everything and making Bucky look perfect, regardless of the flaws he showcased. Later he would look at that. Now, though, he wanted to see the real thing.

The brighter lights in the bathroom made him wince a bit, blinking rapidly to adjust as he shut the door behind himself.

When his gaze fell to his reflection, however, he paused. Unsure of what to make of himself, and almost barely recognizing himself to begin with.

His eyes looked darker, a little wider. In spite of the stubble from the last several days, the addition of the lipstick made him look--

Bucky’s reflection blurred, his heart swelling almost uncomfortably and he found himself grasping the vanity in fear that he’d collapse otherwise. It struck a chord. That same memory he couldn’t quite pull together the first time he’d seen the tube of lipstick on the vanity.

It was  _ right _ . That was the only way he could really think of it. It was disjointed, a little messy, and almost definitely not  _ normal _ but--

God. It felt more like he was looking at himself than ever before. Which sounded absolutely ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it.

In spite of the fact that he had never really considered that he looked like this, it somehow matched up perfectly with how he considered himself all the same.

That didn't stop him from wiping the lipstick off anyways. Grimacing a little bit at the texture of it, but it still left a rosy stain behind that gave him the same sort of feeling.

The way Steve lit up when he came back into the room, too, made him feel beautiful. Like it was how Steve had been seeing him the whole time as well, and that was sweeter than anything he could have tried to say.


End file.
